Hiking in the mountains along the Mediterranean coast this winter (see previous posts) has reminded us that North Americans cling to a uniquely narrow definition of hiking.

In the U.S. and Canada, hikers expect to depart civilization at the trailhead and remain severed from it for the duration of their hike. Anything less than pristine wilderness, they believe, sullies the experience. In Europe, civilization is often integral to hiking. European hikers don’t expect to always leave civilization behind; they know they’ll encounter it at least occasionally. This doesn’t disappoint them; they appreciate it.

The majority of European hiking trails are historic. Outside the high Alps, many trails are on terraces held in place by ancient stone walls. Others are cobbled for long distances. European trails frequently pass, or grant views of, villages, castles, and myriad structures that are either still used or are now in ruins. Sometimes European trails briefly merge with roads, even paved roads. At higher elevations, most trails link huts or refuges, where hikers who’ve reserved ahead will have everything they need waiting for them: a hearty meal, a comfortable bed, and perhaps a hot shower.

So is hiking inferior in Europe? In our opinion, no. We love hiking here. The European definition of “hiking,” which embraces rather than spurns civilization, allows far more opportunities to hike. It can even make hiking more intriguing and rewarding. Spiderwebbing networks of trails in Europe allow you to tailor each trip to your circumstances, sometimes on the fly. Loops, in which you never retrace a step, are frequently possible. Here, trailheads disperse rather than funnel hikers.

North America and Europe are as different—geographically, historically, culturally—as they are distant. North America, with its vast tracts of wilderness, allows hikers the luxury of insisting that civilization and hiking be mutually exclusive. And many European hikers travel to North America to immerse themselves in “pure nature.” But relatively few hikers from North America reciprocate. They wince at the thought of hiking in “crowded Europe.” We believe their assumptions of Europe are inaccurate, and their view of hiking is blinkered.

We’ve devoted our lives to hiking. The wilds of North America are our natural habitat. Our home in the Canadian Rockies backs onto a mountainside frequented by grizzly bears, cougars, and elk. Yet the months we’ve hiked in Europe—ascending mule tracks through olive groves and medieval hamlets to mountaintops crowned with shrines, frequently greeting our fellow hikers en route—and the months we’ve backpacked in North America—through remote mountains and obscure canyons where we were utterly alone—have been equally joyful.

Travelers often yearn for friends and family to ask stimulating, thoughtful questions. It rarely happens. When it does, it’s a gift. It helps travelers better understand their own motivations and articulate the deeper meaning of the experiences they’ve had en route.

The standard questions… What place did you enjoy most? Where was the best food?… are briefly tolerable but soon wearisome. When asking them, people don’t realize they’re short-changing themselves. More probing, challenging questions elicit more surprising, entertaining, revealing answers.

How do you know if it’s a “good” question? You’ll feel it’s daring of you to ask it. Or you’ll hesitate before answering, because the question demands reflection. Good questions are personal. Contemplation is necessary to think of good questions, as well as to answer them. A good question discloses something about the person asking it. Good questions are the ones you wish someone would ask you. The result of a good question is that both people know each other better and feel closer to one another.

A great friend of ours, with whom we’ve traveled and hiked in the Canadian Rockies, New Zealand, and the French Alps, recently emailed us several good questions about our experiences this winter in the mountains along the Mediterranean. He’s pondering a long, adventurous journey himself and wants it to be soul-enriching, not just a sight-seeing trip. Here’s what he asked and how we answered:

Q: What do you find challenging about your work hiking/traveling?

A: Balancing how much we take with how much we give. We don’t want hiking/traveling to be entirely selfish, which it can easily become. We want to use what we experience to heighten our contribution to others through our books and website blog. We want hiking/travel to make us wiser and more compassionate. What we learn, we can share through our writing. Compassion is a welcome gift in any human exchange.

Q: What meaning did you get from Liguria as opposed to the Costa Blanca?

A: We’re in Liguria now, just inland from the Italian Riviera. The true meaning of a travel experience takes time to bubble up through the soul into the conscious mind. We think it’s yet to do that. We could, of course, offer several answers to that question now. But the real answer will probably emerge later.

Q: What did France’s maritime alps say to you, and what did Italy’s Alpi Apuane say to you?

A: France said “You’re here rather early for hiking.” Italy is saying, “Just in case you didn’t understand it in French, I’ll repeat it in Italian: ‘You’re here rather early for hiking.’”

Q: Why did you choose, or what feelings led you, to go to Liguria?

A: We came to Liguria for the same reasons that have motivated all our European journeys. It feels as if our mental/emotional tank, with regard to Europe, was barely a quarter full. We want to fill up. Our desire to see Europe’s architectural and natural beauty remains intense. Because European society is ancient, there are trails everywhere. More trails per square kilometer here than anywhere. We’re hikers, so how can we resist the Continent of a Million Trails? The reason we came this winter is that we wanted to escape the vastly harsher winter weather at home, in the Canadian Rockies.

Q: How did the feelings generated in Liguria inspire or contribute to your next choice of destination?

A: On the simplest level, we’re compelled to return to these mountains in summer to take full advantage of all the high-elevation hiking trails that are inaccessible to us in winter. On a deeper level, our experience here is nudging our gaze back to North America, specifically to Utah, where we want to build a home in the high-desert canyon country, where the infinite canyons invite endless exploration, and where our souls resonate most vibrantly with the land.

Q: Do you get a sense for local people when hiking in Europe?

A: Yes, but not the present-day locals. We rarely meet anyone hiking here in winter. But we get a strong sense for the Europeans who built the ancient trails. These people are no longer physically present, of course, but we sense them nonetheless. We not only see their handiwork, we use it, much as they did. The trails they built are not just functional, they’re art. Beautiful, earthen art. The terraces they constructed are marvels of patience, engineering, craftsmanship. The trees they cultivated are gorgeous. These people obviously had a profound relationship with the land. We can’t help but begin to see the world through those people’s eyes and to feel kinship with them. And through them, we deepen our relationship with the Earth.

Europe continues wrestling with the most thuggish winter weather it’s seen in more than a decade. Most of the continent was head-dropped* in December, splashed* in January, and is now on the verge of tapping out.***

But we’ve stayed close to the Mediterranean for the past couple months: in Spain’s Costa Blanca Mountains, on the Spanish Island of Mallorca (south of Valencia), and now in France, on the Cote d’Azur. Though the weather has been unusually cold and rainy for this palm-fringed region, it has still allowed us to hike more days than not. And we’ve done it in relative comfort. Compared to a typical winter back home in the Canadian Rockies, it’s been luxurious here.

Our current abode is the ancient city of Vence, slightly inland from Cap d’Antibe, Cannes, and Nice. In a country rife with ancient villages and towns that are certifiably gorgeous, Vence is a gem. Our apartment is literally on the wall that once deterred would-be assailants from ransacking the original village. When we look out our window, we can peer up at the foothills of the Alpes Maritime rising immediately above us, or we can gaze down-valley toward the Med. We’re within a couple-minute walk of numerous pâtisseries and boulangeries d’artisan (pastry shops and artisan bakeries). We’re virtually next door to the cultural center, where we sat front row while a superb jazz quartet performed a brilliant homage to Antônio Jobim, the Grammy Award-winning Brazilian songwriter, composer, arranger, singer, and pianist/guitarist. And all around us, in every direction, are hiking trails. We are as happy as we can be, regardless of the weather.

If a winter hiking holiday appeals to you, we recommend Vence, France. You’ll find lots of accommodation options on www.homeaway.com. After arriving in Vence, go to one of the tabacs (small shops selling tabacco products, newspapers, magazines, etc.) and buy the IGN 1: 25 000 topo maps titled “ET 3642” and “ET 3643.” You’ll also find IGN topo maps at Carrefour hypermarkets along the Cote d’Azur.

Compared to Spain’s Costa Blanca and Mallorca’s Serra de Tramuntana, the mountains of the Cote d’Azur are more heavily treed, with less exposed rock, so they’re not as dramatic. But they’re beautiful and intriguing nonetheless. And they compensate by offering a vastly more extensive trail network, better maintained trails, and superior trail signage. Walking and hiking are more ingrained in French culture. And French tourism organizations understand that trails are a vital asset. As a result, you can expect to see excellent signage at trailheads and trail junctions, plus painted blazes en route. Hiking here can be physically challenging but is never a mental chore.

The following Cote d’Azur trails, all within easy reach of Vence, kept us striding eagerly. We’ve posted photos of several of them among the first 30 images under “France” on the Photos/Videos page of our website.

Circuit de Cavillore
2- to 3-hour loop gaining 300 m (984 ft)
Starting just above the beautiful perched village of Gourdon at 740 m (2427 ft), a well-constructed, switchbacking trail provides an easy, scenic introduction to the area.

Circuit du Castellet
3-hour loop gaining 450 m (1476 ft) including spur to summit
From St. Jeanette (a ten-minute drive from Vence), the trail ascends over the crag towering directly above the village. The summit overlooks a big swath of the Cote d’Azur.

Balcon du Loup
5- to 6.5-hour loop gaining 800 m (2624 ft)
After climbing above the village of Pont du Loup, the trail follows an ancient aqueduct traversing a valley wall. It allows you to hike comfortably and safely along sheer cliffs. You’ll also proceed through eight, long, dark tunnels, so don’t forget your headlamp.  The hike ends with a long, steep, switchbacking descent of Pic de Courmettes on a paved road.

Plateau de Calern
4-hour circuit gaining 250 m (820 ft)
Start near the Obervatoire du CERGA, northwest of Gourdon. Panoramic views are constant. Mt. Cheiron dominates the inland horizon. En route you’ll often pass remnants of ancient civilization, including wells, agricultural plots and, of course, walls.

Gorges de la Vesubie
4- to 5-hour round trip gaining 700 m (2296 ft)
This astounding trail is the one we’d recommend if you had but one day to hike near the Cote d’Azur. It’s an ancient mule path (much of it cobbled) allowing a highline traverse of the soaring, nearly vertical, 800-m (2624-ft) gorge wall between two villages: Le Cros d’Utelle and Utelle. Start at the tranquil hamlet of Le Cros d’Utelle. After a brief ascent, you’ll generally contour all the way to the slightly larger settlement of Utelle. A circuit is possible, but it entails significant elevation loss (which you must regain) and affords little new scenery; better to hike out and back. Afterward, drive road D19, on the gorge’s opposite wall, between St. Jean la Riviere and Levens. The road is an engineering marvel allowing you to fully appreciate the trail you just completed. We frequently stopped the car, got out, and stared in awe. If we hadn’t just hiked there, we wouldn’t believe it possible.

Mt. Lion
4- to 5-hour circuit gaining 450 m (1476 ft)
From the village of Gillette, high above the Var River Valley, hike around Mt. Lion. Time permitting, follow a short spur to the 1049-m (3441-ft) summit. Scenic highlights include a close perspective of 1550-m (5084-ft) Mt. Vial and an aerial view of the Esteron Valley. Before or after the hike, visit the perched village of Bonson.

Baou de l’Arc
3- to 4-hour loop gaining 630 m (2066 ft)
After sauntering through the meticulously maintained, ancient village of Cuebris, you’ll ascend past an impressive waterfall and top out on a lofty crag. On the descent, you’ll hop a stream just above where it careens into a defile and over a cliff. Just before returning to the village, you’ll cross a bridge over a creek roaring through a chasm. From Vence, the quickest way to reach Cuebris is via the N202 highway in the Var Valley, then the D17 through the lovely villages of Gillette and Roquesteron. After the hike, take the long way back to Vence by driving the D1 through the perched villages of Consegudes, Ferres, and Bouyon. Proceed southwest to Coursegoules, then follow the D2 back to Vence.

Brec d’Utelle
4- to 4.5-hour round trip gaining 810 m (2657 ft)
Many of the roads in the mountains of France are mind boggling, like this smoothly-paved lane climbing from the bottom of Vesubie Gorge all the way to the perched village of Utelle at 800 m (2624 ft). And the trails continuing beyond these French roads tend to be equally marvelous, like this one leading to a peaklet on the edge of the gorge. Views extend into the burly mountains of Parc National du Mercantour.

Mt. Cheiron
8- to 9-hour loop gaining 800 m (2624 ft)
Rising 1778 m (5832 ft), Mt. Cheiron is the highest Cote d’Azur peak within 30 km (19 mi) of the sea. Beneath the mountain’s south face are two quaint villages— Coursegoules and Greoleries—where you’ll find trails ascending to Cheiron’s summit ridge. There’s also a trail along the mountain’s 5-km (3 mi) spine, and a trail linking the villages, so it’s possible to hike Cheiron as a loop. Midwinter, however, the peak will likely retain too much snow to allow easy striding. If so, consider a short, three-hour roundtrip starting in Coursegoules at 1020 m (3346 ft) and gaining 480 m (1574 ft) to the ridgecrest at 1424 m (4671 ft).

Cap Ferrat
2-hour loop with negligible elevation gain
After ascending mountains or contending with chilly weather, this often-sunny seaside walk can be a welcome change. Start in Beaulieu sur Mer (immediately northeast of Nice) and follow the coastal path around Cap Ferrat. You’ll often be walking within a few meters of ocean swells crashing on the rocks. Just above, you’ll glimpse the massive holiday mansions of the obscenely wealthy. Be thankful France has a socially-minded government that keeps paths like this open to the public rather than allowing the local moguls to extend fences into the water. Two other coastal walks worth considering are at Cap d’Antibes and Cap d’Ail.

*A “head drop” is a pro wrestling move causing the victim to be dropped on his head, often resulting in an actual (as opposed to fake) injury, such as a concussion or even a broken neck. The intention is for the full force of the move to be absorbed in the victim’s upper back and shoulders, but a head drop always involves legitimate risk.

**A “splash” is any move involving a very large wrestler dropping his full weight across the body of a smaller opponent. It was originated by Big Daddy, a 1970s British pro wrestler whose signature move was the “Daddy Splash.”

***A “tap out” is when a wrestler taps on the mat to acknowledge submission. It means he is giving up due to the unbearable pain his opponent is inflicting on him.